Naked (Wrathion x Anduin Wrynn)
by Flagfish
Summary: "That's a terrible lie you've told the clergy; we're not lovers." "Oh, Anduin Wrynn— but we ARE." Beneath hurt and resentment that have lain dormant inside him for years, Anduin finds he still cares for a certain old friend; could the key to saving Azeroth lie in a foreordained purpose involving a powerful bond between them? (Please note: future chapters to include graphic M/M sex)
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1 summary:  
_ Varian has survived the battle at the Broken Shore and returned safely to Stormwind, but the Legion has yet to be defeated; still a prince, Anduin travels to Val'sharah with the priesthood on an excursion to learn about holy relics there. He'd never expected to be reunited with Wrathion at Bradensbrook, and even less that his old friend would appear to have almost _anticipated_ his presence.

XX

 _When exactly_ , Anduin wondered, _did Wrathion get so handsome...?_

 _No, he didn't just think that_.

He stood irritably before his mirror and worked at the ties of his priestly garments, and willed himself to forego any thoughts to that end— because he needed to remain calm for the sermon he had to give.

He kept a tight rein on his temper.

A lot of things raced through his mind that had little to do with the Light, like how badly he wanted to punch a certain black dragon, _or how_ _he couldn't believe the gall of that conniving, two-faced—_

 _—no, don't think about that_.

Still with his hands on his fastens, Anduin closed his eyes and tried uselessly to will himself into a state of inner peace.

 _Holy Light that art in the heavens_ , he murmured, _bestow unto your humble servant the patience to_ —

His prayer was interrupted by the graceless sound of a door coming loudly open, and then Wrathion walked briskly out of the bathroom while rubbing a towel in his hair, naked as the day he was hatched. Completely unbothered.

"You look stupid," he helpfully informed Anduin while heading for the dresser.

Still before the mirror, Anduin bristled entirely, his face turned seven different shades of red and he rapidly looked away; inside him his pulse hammered, he began muttering for Wrathion _not to interrupt him during his communion with the Light_.

He wasn't even really sure just what he was saying.

 _He's a dragon_ , he told himself inwardly; _dragons walk around naked, it's probably not that big a deal. They probably just do that_ —

"This yours?" Wrathion asked, and to his horror Anduin turned to see him triumphantly wave a pair of _freaking underwear;_ they had a print of little lion faces, and on the butt were the words _Stormwind Rocks_.

" _Give me that_ ," Anduin stammered, he tried hard not to stare while he scrambled to grab them from him; "Why are you going through my stuff? _Your stuff's over there_."

He didn't mean to, but he'd caught a glimpse of Wrathion's body, and then immediately turned away, he felt like any sense of maturity or adulthood he'd gained in the past years had dissipated utterly.

 _You have a sermon_ , he reminded himself, _you have to give a sermon in like fifteen minutes_.

How did things come to this?

Following the venture to the Broken Isles, Anduin traveled to Val'sharah with several priests of the Light in an investigation of the holy relics there; it was during his stay at Bradensbrook that he'd had a _purely coincidental_ run-in with Wrathion, _certainly_ not something orchestrated by his devious, cunning old friend.

Why Wrathion was at the Broken Isles, Anduin didn't know, and certainly Wrathion wasn't going to tell him; what's more, it was almost like Wrathion had _expected_ him, and before the priesthood had even reached Bradensbrook Wrathion informed the Church there about him, _and had the gall to say Anduin was his beloved_.

Through his natural sense of diplomacy he'd managed to gain quite a rapport with the clergy, and had even revealed freely that he was an uncorrupt black dragon; when the priesthood arrived, to his surprise Anduin and his party had received quite the reception at the Church, something which felt immensely suspicious until finally the root of it became clear.

 _Wrathion didn't even seem fazed when he made his entrance,_ he spoke with the sort of aristocratic charm Anduin remembered from many years before, and got one arm round his back like it were the most natural thing in the world; if he was at all shaken to see him, he certainly did a good job of hiding it.

Anduin, himself, was utterly stunned; at first he didn't quite recognize him, it took some moments before the realization hit that the tall, dark, and handsome young man who greeted him was _bloody Wrathion_.

He glared daggers while at his side the infamous Black Prince went on with casual nonchalance to elaborate to the clergy about Anduin's supposed virtues as a priest— _like he'd know anything about his recent past._

There were emotions in him he'd not felt in years, like resentment and longing and curious nostalgia, _but anger above all else;_ his temper rose steadily like water coming to a boil, _something very unbecoming to a priest._

Under his breath he murmured in dangerously quiet tones, _Get your arm off me—_ but his voice trembled despite him, there were too many jumbled thoughts in his head to know where to begin. It occurred to him he would need to find out what exactly Wrathion had up his sleeve before he could decide on what to do.

He had somehow managed to feign composure for the remaining introductions, but found himself completely floored when later an altar boy informed him that _rooms had already been prepared for him and his beloved_.

At that he looked rapidly up from where he'd been reading through some of the holy scriptures, and nearly hit his head on a hanging plant; " _Sorry?_ " he asked, _he could feel his ears burn_.

" _I don't have a_ —"

Whatever he might have said next died at his throat when the realization hit, and then he flushed so profoundly he had to turn away; _just tell him_ , he thought, _just tell the altar boy there's been a mix-up; oh, the nerve of that unbelievable little— was that really what Wrathion told them? Did I hear that right? But why would he—_

"Ah," Anduin said; he cleared his throat and then straightened himself in as close an approximation as he could to _priestly serenity_. "Thank you," he heard himself reply; "I appreciate the gesture."

 _(On to Chapter 2)_

XX

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in **roleplaying Warcraft lore** , especially **Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas** (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please contact me either via PM or through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^

A/N: To those who are curious, I do plan to continue work on Timeless: A Wranduin Story; this is a bonus fic =)


	2. Chapter 2

"If you think I'm sharing a bed with you, you've got another thing coming."

Anduin stood at the opposite side of his and Wrathion's mutual living quarters, blankets in one hand, holy scripture in the other; after Wrathion had stupidly informed the clergy that _Anduin was his lover,_ naturally they'd been given a room with only one bed.

Inside him his pulse raced uncomfortably fast, _he'd never shared a bed with anyone before._

Anyone but Wrathion, that was— back at the Tavern in the Mists when he'd been a little whelp and had curled to sleep at the foot of his mattress.

Now Wrathion walked through the room with an air of casual elegance and proceeded nonchalantly to lay out his blazer on a large, cushioned chair; "Can't say I blame you," he said. Without his discretion Anduin found his gaze lingered on the slender outline of his back, which was just subtly visible beneath his undershirt.

When suddenly Wrathion turned to face him he went hot all over and rapidly looked away; _was he about to disrobe again like he had before, completely without preamble?_ Because if he was, then Anduin wasn't about to stick around for it, he would give him a little lecture on what mortals considered to be _basic decency_.

 _Certainly he wasn't thinking back to how he'd looked earlier that day, when he'd seen him fully nude._

He was roused from his thoughts when Wrathion's voice came again; "After all," he said, "you can't _possibly_ trust me after— you know— after _everything_ — isn't that right?"

He waved one hand around as to indicate _everything;_ at that, Anduin sputtered, " _How dare you_ —"

There were in him speeches he'd constructed carefully over years, which without his awareness he'd rehearsed time and again to a nonexistent audience in his mind— about _everything he'd say to Wrathion if ever he got the chance._

And yet, now that at last the chance arrived to tell him in earnest, somehow the words never came.

 _You betrayed me,_ he thought, the phrase was practically tangible at the back of his throat; _countless lives were lost in the battle against the Iron Horde—_

There was so much in him that he couldn't decide where to start, he now relished in the hunger to finally tell him all the things that simmered inside him for years, and holy fire overtook him like a force of righteous retribution; _funny how his heart hammered unnervingly,_ he could feel the maddening rush of his pulse and the primal thrum of adrenaline, overwhelming in its effect. It made him brittle where he didn't want to be, and he struggled for control despite it; _Light almighty,_ he thought, _why am I this worked up...?_

"You—" he said, he walked toward Wrathion with his best approximation of _determined purpose,_ but his voice betrayed him, the adrenaline had him tremble all over— _irritating thing, really, very annoying;_ why his body had decided to _completely freak out_ was beyond him.

"You have no idea of the sort of mess you left behind," he said; "You're an enemy of the Alliance— _no, an enemy of mortals as a whole—_ "

He now spoke in moodily whispering tones, his heart pounded with the nerve he had to say these things directly, and he wished for the hundredth time that _he would just bloody calm down;_ why in the hell was he so nervous...?

Anduin had seldom gotten this angry; on his journey to adulthood he'd come to exemplify profoundly the transcendent virtue of the Light, and spoke ever with the eternal voice of divine clemency. Whence this storm of wrath had come that overtook him now, he didn't know, but it swept him through like a fire and became impossible to resist.

Worse still, Wrathion appeared entirely unaffected; he wasn't fazed by his accusations and merely regarded him with a very annoying smile— he was _smiling...!_ Somewhere beneath his rage Anduin felt a creeping sense of embarrassment at having become so livid, _even though Wrathion absolutely had it coming._

"Are you listening?" he huffed, he was aware of how gracelessly upset he'd become, how completely unlike a proper high priest; he was now actually poking at Wrathion with his holy scripture.

But this was a matter beyond his mere judgment as a the voice of the Light; _it was something deep and personal, old scars that bled achingly to this day,_ and thus his personal temper was warranted.

 _Wrathion appeared so infuriatingly pleased._

"You _heartless_ —" Anduin seethed; " _you cruel, conniving—_ I was your _friend...!"_

He smacked one hand to his own chest as to emphasize the term, and felt himself hot with the translucent flow of holy power.

"Far more than a friend," Wrathion helpfully corrected; he spoke like the matter between them was plain, _almost like he knew something Anduin didn't._

Somewhere inside him Anduin was aware he ought to compose himself, that certainly Wrathion must be feeding directly off his rage, and that this without doubt must be why he appeared so supremely content; but he didn't fancy putting on airs that he wasn't upset, or to play subversive games as though the betrayal hadn't hurt him.

"Is this some dragon thing I just don't understand?" he asked, the words issued forth before he'd thought them through completely; "Is something like friendship meaningless to you because you'll outlive me, so it's inconsequential—"

"Ah," Wrathion said, "Outlive you— no, but you'll see soon enough—"

"What are you on about? What are you plotting...?"

He'd not noticed Wrathion's hand till it came to rest on his shoulder, where he prompted him gently to turn to the looking glass; in the mirror Anduin caught sight of his reflection, where his very being flowed through and through with seraphic righteous energy. It was a little embarrassing, in a moment of boyish humility he quietly folded his shimmering wings.

Despite everything, despite how badly Wrathion deserved his anger, he felt a creeping sorrow at the foreboding words that _Wrathion won't outlive him;_ and he'd said it with such serene indifference, too.

 _No,_ he thought, _don't listen to a word he says— he's already proven himself to be a proper snake, this must be another one of his schemes._

He watched silently while Wrathion made his way to the bed; "And also," Anduin murmured in a low, affronted tone, "That's a terrible lie you've told the clergy. _We're not lovers."_

Some distance away where he pulled the covers back, Wrathion briefly looked up; "Oh," he said in that same irritating, nonchalant tone. "But we _are._ "

 _(On to Chapter 3)  
_

XX

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in **roleplaying Warcraft lore** , especially **Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas** (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please contact me either via PM or through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^


	3. Chapter 3

For several moments, Anduin merely watched Wrathion go about his preparations for bed; he readied himself to see him disrobe spontaneously at any moment, but somehow this time Wrathion hadn't done so— instead, he merely wore his shorts and undershirt like many humans would for sleep.

It occurred to Anduin with a bout of embarrassment that he actually _anticipated_ seeing him undressed again, and he denied the thought the moment it came; he followed his motion through the room before finally he managed some words.

"You had best tell me," he stammered, "what it is exactly that you have planned— _I won't be fooled a second time, I'll smite you—_ _are you listening—_ "

Despite him his pulse still went too fast for his liking, he could feel the fury of the light from before slowly dissipate; what did Wrathion mean, _they really were lovers...?_

 _Nothing, he'd meant nothing by it— he was just being a dick, which was his natural state._

Now and then he noticed in him little habits he _remembered,_ which were so familiar for what they were that he could imagine they still were at the Tavern in the Mists; "Well," he said, despite him he glanced at Wrathion's long, slender legs, his lean chest and abdomen which were slightly visible beneath his undershirt. "I don't trust you, and I'm not your— we're not— _I'm not sharing a bed with you, I don't care what lies you told everyone in—_ "

"I already told you," Wrathion said without looking up from a scroll he was reading; "That last bit wasn't a lie— but I suppose I can't blame you for not trusting me, you'd be a fool to do so, wouldn't you?"

His nonchalance was aggravating.

"Right," Anduin huffed; "Fine, know what? Sure, okay, _we're lovers._ Could've fooled me, best send a letter to Father, he'd be thrilled—"

He regretted the words soon as they came, because he noticed immediately the way Wrathion's mouth inched up in a grin; _oh, without doubt he was loving this,_ he smiled fully like here was the best idea he'd heard all day.

"You know?" he said, "I've not even considered that— _Varian would be well chuffed—_ "

"We are not! _Lovers!"_ Anduin cried conclusively, he'd become well aware by then that Wrathion had got anger out of him he never knew he had; _Why am I letting him get to me?_ he wondered; _he's clearly trying to make me upset, I have to find inner peace—_

"All right—" he said with a deep breath; "I'm just— I'm gonna go and say my evening prayers—I have to be up early tomorrow to give a service, so just— _just don't talk to me for the rest of the night, and don't try anything—_ I—"

He'd been about to say something more about how he had no intent to share a bed, _but for some reason he didn't;_ instead he told himself inwardly that it didn't matter either way, because it wasn't anything they've not done before, when Wrathion was a whelp.

The very thought of having a _lover_ was absurd; apart from a few dates here and there, Anduin had never been in a serious relationship before, and the farthest he'd got was second base.

 _And like every young person around his age, he was dead curious to know what sexual things were like._

It was a matter of fantasy and not something tangible which he expected to experience anytime soon, but could it be that Wrathion would actually want—

 _Light almighty,_ he flushed on catching himself at this train of thought; _Am I truly this stupid? Clearly he's trying to taunt me in some way._

And Wrathion spoke of it so _casually,_ too, like to him it was _no big deal;_ it occurred to Anduin that perhaps Wrathion had him beat where sex was concerned, and that perhaps he'd achieved far more than he had during their time apart.

He found suddenly that this matter worried him almost as much as his concerns about the holy relics he'd come here to investigate; there was a messy tangle of issues left unresolved between them, he realized, which had stewed slowly over a number of years and had finally come to a boil.

 _Not now,_ he thought, _I have to find peace; I have to devote myself to the Light fully for my evening prayers._

He left their shared quarters and headed down the hall with intent to visit the small chapel located downstairs, and tried to compose himself and appear _priestly_ to members of the staff; however, he took notice on his journey that gazes lingered on him, and that he'd got more attention than he normally received as a foreign dignitary.

He felt it moreso on arriving at the chapel, when he'd become aware of the Light's immediate presence; it carried an uncanny thrum and luminescence which felt pleasant and warm, and uncharacteristically potent for what it was— the sort of energy he'd usually feel after a heartfelt prayer.

Even his anger from before had virtually subsided, and without it he was left only with an encompassing awareness of holy energy, it pulsed through him like a natural extension of his being; as was his habit when coming into a chapel to pray he amicably greeted the others in attendance, though now he practically felt their eyes on him.

He thought of how profoundly charged with the light he'd become, and wondered if still the holy energy radiated from him like it had in his room before; somehow, however, this unusual surge of devotion felt natural and _right._ The impulse to kneel down in prayer had become overwhelming, heartfelt righteousness coursed through him all throughout as finally he proceeded to do so.

The low sound of crickets, something like a warm summer evening, like camping outdoors— _like back in Pandaria..._

For some time Anduin kept his eyes closed, he was still warm all over, pleasantly soothed, there came the gentle caress of water...

Through the tendrils of sleep he felt blindly for the damp cloth on his brow and finally opened his eyes; he was lain in a tub in a human-style bathroom, for some moments he struggled to remember where he was.

The hands washing his shoulders were kind, uncannily careful, unmistakable in their honest affection; he was reminded of days long-passed, far back in boyhood when he was a very small child and his father had bathed him.

But this wasn't Stormwind Keep; he had traveled far from home, he'd come to Bradensbrook, a Gilnean town in a distant land...

Why was he being bathed? He'd been speaking with the other priests at Bradensbrook... no, that was earlier on... he'd returned to the place where they were staying— _he'd been made to share a room with—_

In a moment of horror he spun rapidly around and stared wide-eyed at Wrathion, and then quickly scrambled to shield himself with his hands; " _What are you doing here?_ " he stammered, he could feel himself flush from head to toe, and now glanced around the room for something better with which to cover himself.

Outside the bath, Wrathion appeared terribly insulted; he huffed with an air of aristocratic disgust and raised one eyebrow, unamused. " _Barbaric,_ " he said crisply, _and that was rich, coming from a dragon._

"I knew you were up to something," Anduin murmured with audible embarrassment, he was now grabbing clumsily for the closest towel he could find, and tried to figure out a way to stand and get it around his waist without allowing Wrathion to see anything in the process.

Soon he was stumbling around in attempt to get the towel wrapped, without any of the grace or composure he usually strove for as a priest; " _What did you do?"_ he asked, " _Why was I in there?"_

He pointed indignantly at the bath.

Wrathion, who appeared to have just about _had it,_ stood opposite him with arms crossed and tapped one foot irritably; " _I_ didn't _do_ anything, Anduin Wrynn," he said. "Brother Benjamin came in here and said you had passed out at the chapel."

At that, Anduin frowned; he tried to remember the events that transpired earlier, but many of them felt like a blur; before he could make sense of them Wrathion continued. "Something about the Light," he said, "the endowment of profound holy power— I don't know, speak with your mortal friends. _But I'm not sure I fancy talking to you after that..._ " He waved one hand dismissively; "...that _scene_ just now."

He appeared whelpishly affronted and was now elegantly dabbing his hands in a towel; Anduin still struggled to register that the fully adult, deceptively handsome young man before him was _Wrathion._

 _Well— not really a man, and not really fully adult, was he? He must have been a drake at the eldest..._

 _...why was he thinking about these things...?_

Apart from all this, what Wrathion had said about the Light intrigued him, but he was quick to remind himself to take it with a grain of salt: after all, who knew what lies he might be weaving. "Yeah, well—" Anduin said, he still felt thoroughly embarrassed to have been seen— _no, touched_ — without clothes on. "I'll see about that; I'll speak with the others in the priesthood, I don't believe a word out of your mouth."

"This is getting tiresome," Wrathion replied, he walked out of the bathroom and in the direction of what Anduin now recognized as their mutual quarters; before Anduin could respond, there came vaguely Wrathion's voice again, in something like an afterthought.

"You know," he sounded almost amused; "You have freckles in the darndest places..."

 _(On to Chapter 4)  
_

XX

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in **roleplaying Warcraft lore** , especially **Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas** (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please contact me either via PM or through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^


	4. Chapter 4

While he got ready for bed, Anduin became aware that _Wrathion had clearly disrobed him for his bath;_ he'd seen every bit of him, and had certainly touched him all over while having him washed, it was terribly embarrassing. _Calm down,_ he thought; _it's probably not a big deal for a dragon— and besides, you saw him naked, too._

At that, he felt a tiny bit of contentment, but mostly he felt his cheeks burn; _But we're even now,_ he told himself, _we've seen each other, so it's not like..._

 _Not like what...?_

Outside the rain had started coming down, it tapped on the building's foundation and over leaves of ivy, Anduin stepped into the room to find Wrathion already in bed; he still was in his human guise, it occurred to Anduin that now he must be too large in his true form to fit a mortal-sized mattress.

 _Not that I care,_ he quickly reminded himself; _why would I care...?_

He quietly went about putting some things away and tied back his damp hair, and paused before the mirror to catch himself still dimly glowing with holy power; in the morning he'd have to speak with the other priests about this, perhaps he could get a hold of a mage in the village so he could send an arcane letter to Velen...

Without turning around he proceeded toward the small table where he'd left his bags, he took out a number of holy candles and began setting them out as was his habit before going to sleep; he hesitated, because he'd become aware after that evening that the Light had inexplicably come to manifest powerfully in him.

However, he could not deny also that there overcame him a soft sense of peace, even despite the temper that had consumed him earlier, and despite Wrathion's presence only some yards away; he lit the candles and said a short blessing, aware he felt better for it. Then, on turning around, he was reminded that _he'd really have to share a bed with Wrathion._

 _This is so stupid,_ he thought, his gaze lingered where Wrathion was lain on mattress with his back turned to him; he was faced the other way and Anduin had a plain view of his form, the bony articulations of his shoulder and the lean muscles in his upper arm, the alternating ridges of his ribs which were vaguely visible beneath his light shirt.

His dark hair was about shoulder-length and stick-straight, it poured shimmering over the side of his face and onto the pillow from the back.

 _He's taller than I am,_ Anduin was aware, Wrathion had grown to have an elegant and aristocratic build which reminded him without doubt that _he was a true dragon;_ for a transient moment he felt a twinge of longing for the friendship they once had, he was reminded of his determination in adolescence to overcome any fear of the black dragonflight.

Wrathion, he believed deep down, was not _evil_ so much as he was _just an asshole._

His eyes moved from where he was lain to the other side of the bed, and he wondered if there was enough space there that he could lie down with a good amount of distance between them; was Wrathion asleep? Would he notice when he climbed in...?

He went on to extinguish the lantern at the bedside and then carefully climbed on the mattress, its foundation creaked in the most embarrassing way _;_ at that, Anduin's gaze moved rapidly toward Wrathion, but he seemed undisturbed and had merely remained exactly as he was before.

 _Okay,_ Anduin sighed, _he's already asleep._

Regardless, he tried to be subtle while tugging at the sheets, aware suddenly that here was something else he'd have to share; Wrathion appeared to have a large part of the covers safely on his side, which left him with only a small portion for himself.

 _Light damn it,_ he thought, he lay with his back to Wrathion and tried to tug lightly at the sheets, but they only reached the bend of his shoulder; he tried a bit harder and came to understand soon enough that he'd have to wake Wrathion up if he wanted him to let go.

 _I don't want to talk to him._

Anduin's gaze moved absently over the outline of the furniture, which was dimly illuminated by the holy candles he'd set out before; from outside issued the heavy tap of the rain, the windows appeared lined with frost all over.

" _Wrathion,"_ he whispered, like he were trying to be quiet as not to wake him up; after that, he cleared his throat and tried again in a louder voice. "Hey," he said, "do you think you could give me some of the blankets? You've got them all on your side."

 _This is so stupid;_ _I never had to deal with this when he was a whelp._

Several seconds had passed without a word, and finally Anduin sat up in bed; " _He_ y," he repeated moodily. He regarded Wrathion's sleeping form, the way his shoulder appeared to move just a little with inspiration; he was handsome without doubt, which had Anduin uncertain whether he was jealous or—

 _—or what...?_

 _Did he actually feel pleased for a moment, at the prospect of being his lover?_

 _But that's ridiculous;_ we're _not_ lovers. _Why would I even think—_

 _This is dumb. He's got the covers and it's getting cold, just wake him up and take them._

"Wrathion," he said, far more timidly than he'd meant; "wake up, give me the sheets."

Did he use to sleep this deeply...? After two more attempts he went on to lean over him, he got one hand on the blankets and pulled; at that, finally Wrathion seemed to rouse. He stirred a little and murmured something, _but still bloody held on to the sheets._

" _Give it,"_ Anduin huffed, now far past the point of cordiality; _it was starting to feel like something from back at the Tavern in the Mists._

Wrathion mumbled some words in Draconic, and while Anduin had a fair understanding of the language, this muffled bit he couldn't make out; _then, the bastard actually pulled the covers back to himself._

What followed was a brief wrestling match which proceeded until it had lost any purpose, to the point where Anduin was no longer certain just why he kept at it; he thought he cared little by then whether he'd got the blankets at all. He felt alive with exertion, with the enjoyment of something purely boyish and fun, and before he remembered himself he laughed triumphantly when he'd managed to score a large portion of the sheets.

He lay on his back entirely content, shirt wrinkled partway up his abdomen and hair damply scattered out of its tie, eyes closed, _actually smiling;_ "You wanted this," he chuckled breathlessly, "you wanted to share a bed, this is what you get."

For a moment Wrathion regarded him mutely; then he finally grinned, he laughed with what sounded an awful lot like _innocence_ and collapsed good-naturedly at Anduin's side.

"Have your stupid blankets," he said, he made a show of flipping a large part of them onto Anduin's chest and face; after that, he observed for several seconds before grabbing at his own pillow, he tossed that onto Anduin's face as well and then another cushion for good measure.

By the time Anduin got the lot of it off him, he was smiling outright; _when was the last time he got to act like a kid...?_

"You wanna play it like that, do you?" he asked; he rose to his knees and got a good grip on his pillow, then threw it at Wrathion with a good, hearty swing.

Wrathion tried to dodge but ultimately lost his balance, he toppled on his side without any of the grace Anduin might have come to expect in him; " _That's it!"_ he huffed indignantly, "All right, now you asked for it—"

"Do it then!" Anduin laughed; "Go on, let's see what you've got—"

Downstairs at the study a number of Gilnean priests exchanged quiet glances; one of them coughed awkwardly and turned his eyes back to his prayer book, without saying a word about _the lovers in the room above._

 _(On to Chapter 5)  
_

XX

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in **roleplaying Warcraft lore** , especially **Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas** (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please contact me either via PM or through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^


	5. Chapter 5

Late into the night, finally Anduin and Wrathion had worn themselves out after their pillow match; they lay catching their breath, the bed completely unmade and cushions scattered all over. On the dresser nearby the holy candles continued to burn undisturbed, from outside issued the downpour of rain, heavy like water cascading down a turbulent stream; it had Anduin's thoughts drift unawares to Pandaria.

"Light," he said softly, now completely flushed; "we've made so much noise, do you think anyone heard us?"

"Oh, definitely," Wrathion said without missing a beat; he remained on his back with hair scattered, one leg bent elegantly at the knee, and spoke with an air of philosophical introspection like he were somehow amused.

"I don't think there's a soul alive in this town who hasn't heard us."

Anduin's eyes went wide, he hoped for a moment he was just being teased, but understood soon enough that Wrathion meant it in earnest; somehow, however, despite his deep embarrassment he couldn't help a small, betraying smile.

 _Everyone heard— and certainly they must have thought—_

—that he and Wrathion were doing intimate things, the sort he'd only ever dreamt of, and which he'd secretly prayed to the Light that he'd finally get to do, every night since adolescence.

And now certainly anyone nearby would have the impression that he, Anduin, was well-versed in these sorts of affairs— that was, in _sex—_ and he'd appear to them a proper _man._

Even though, technically, he'd never gotten anywhere near that far.

There was guilt in this, certainly, as a devout follower of the Light he had no intent to perpetuate false rumors like these— but at the end of the day he was only human after all, at an age when any human thought similarly; what's more, somewhere at the back of his thoughts he was aware he ought to be upset at Wrathion— because he, after all, had started the ludicrous rumor that they were supposedly _lovers_ — a plain lie, and one which ought to offend him much more than it actually did.

And yet, somehow, inexplicably now it left him with an unmistakable feeling of _pride._

He started to say a few things more when it occurred to him that at his side Wrathion already had started to drift back to sleep; he must have been quite tired if he passed out so soon.

"Right," Anduin murmured; he spoke softly, like he worried about waking him up. "At least now I have the blankets, see if I leave any for you."

He slowly climbed off the mattress and started to collect the sheets which were strewn in a disheveled heap, and then the cushions which had fallen to the floor; however, he couldn't very well keep them to himself like Wrathion had done, that would be _childish_.

"Can't believe I'm being this nice to you," he whispered; he proceeded to lean over Wrathion and draped the blankets over him with the sort of meticulous care to which he was accustomed as a priest, but he couldn't help pausing to gaze at him partway through.

It was curious to see how much he'd grown; Anduin recognized in him features that felt so deeply familiar he'd almost been taken back in time, but Wrathion appeared decidedly more adult now. He'd gained a regal elegance that was somehow humbling, he was deceptively beautiful for someone so conniving and shrewd.

"I hope you appreciate this," Anduin whispered now that he'd tucked him in properly; "I ought to leave you to freeze, after everything you've done."

However, instead of moving away, he remained where he was, his eyes lingered on Wrathion's sleeping expression, like he waited for him to say something in return; _was he really sleeping...?_

"You awake?" Anduin asked, he spoke in a tone above a whisper, but no response came; without his discretion, a thought passed through his mind which felt unexpectedly natural.

 _I could— I wonder if I could—_

 _No, that was awful;_ what was he thinking of doing...? But it was Wrathion's fault, wasn't it, for telling everyone they were _lovers_ — indeed, he'd have no one to blame but himself if he, Anduin, just leaned a tiny bit closer and—

 _Oh Light,_ what an unholy thing to think; get on your side of the bed and say a prayer to redeem yourself. _Yes, say a prayer and then head to the bathroom and get yourself off, then wash up and don't come back to bed until your thoughts are pure._

However, in that moment Anduin could not deny that despite everything his thoughts could not feel purer; indeed the very notion was heavenly and sweet, in a way he did not understand. What's more, he felt nearly _compelled_ to draw closer, like some fundamental force bound him in place, which was all-encompassing and impossible to resist.

Beyond that he nearly lost himself, like he had at the chapel before; there was golden light all around and he became aware only of an inexorable drive, the delicate chastity of innocence, childlike affection, the most immaculate and fragile sort of heartache—

— _when he kissed Wrathion, it came as the softest, most virginal thing—_

 _—and before the Light enveloped him, he was aware profoundly even without understanding that, somehow, Wrathion's words about the two of them really were true._

 _(On to Chapter 6)  
_

XX

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in **roleplaying Warcraft lore** , especially **Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas** (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please contact me either via PM or through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^

.


	6. Chapter 6

All around the air shimmered with ethereal softness, the dreamlike warmth of sanctity, something eternal beyond the reaches of time; Anduin lay naked as the day he was born, haloed in golden light, it glistened blinding in its radiance where his fingers wove in Wrathion's.

 _His lover._

A truth boundless and fundamental which required no actual words to comprehend; like two parts of a whole they lay entwined in one another in naught but their skin, silent in their mutual awareness, possessed of a power split between them equally.

Upon his slender back Wrathion's majestic wings draped gracefully round his mortal form, in perfect parallel to Anduin's own shimmering seraphic wings, a manifestation of pure light revealed at the holiest moments of righteous devotion.

He moved closer, the pointed tip of his nose searching in empty air, lips pressed forth to the pillowy, clawed tips of Wrathion's fingers brushing forth unawares;

He was so warm. So _real._

 _Do you remember?_

Wrathion mouthed, voice smooth as silk, colored unmistakably with love as the words ghosted immaterial at the shell of Anduin's ear.

For all his cunning Wrathion had to him a knowing, sorrowful tenderness, delicate affection and a way with his hands; within him pulsed the immaculate blood of a true earth warder, and in his heart lay the dormant soul of a titan. There were in him things even he did not understand, but which despite him he _knew,_ which he and Anduin would learn alongside one another.

The golden light enveloped them in its sweetness, distant chimes of summer, an era of peace far, far in the future, too far for the lifetime of a mortal man— _but which, nevertheless, they both would witness together._

XX

Anduin awoke late into the night, or perhaps at the early hours of morning, to the sound of rain still tapping on the building's foundation; he felt disoriented at first, the pleasant haze of the dream still warm all around, and only inches away was Wrathion's sleeping form. The memory of his close presence was so fresh in his mind he could almost feel it still, there pained inside him a delicate longing—

His eyes trailed the slender articulations of Wrathion's fingers, he thought he still felt the living heat of their touch; in a moment of embarrassment he remembered he'd actually kissed him in waking life.

Somehow, everything about him was _familiar,_ Anduin still could feel the brush of his lips, the scent of his hair from the dream, the sensation of his long legs twined in his own; it all had etched in his mind so vividly it felt almost real, and beyond all else lingered the encompassing emotion it left in his heart.

Against his pillow Wrathion's hair appeared silky-smooth, without thinking Anduin reached tentatively to touch it, but startled when fingers suddenly closed on his wrist.

"Ah—" He murmured, red with embarrassment; "I was just—"

For some terrible seconds he squirmed beneath the glowing gaze of red draconic eyes, but Wrathion's touch came soft as his voice; he drew Anduin close without a word and seized his mouth, not with the stumbling innocence of a novice, but with the knowing, aching intent of a lifelong beloved, _someone who knew him through and through._

And in a moment Anduin felt he was swimming, emotion surged in him like living ocean waves, things he could not understand but which consumed him beyond the point of repair; before he knew it he was kissing back with fervor that washed him throughout, _every part of him was on fire._

He emerged from it breathless, flushed all over and wide-eyed in the dark; beneath him Wrathion stared silently back, he appeared just as much out of sorts, _and every bit as famished._

 _Just how long,_ Anduin wondered, _have they wanted to do this...?_

"I'm sorry," he murmured sheepishly; "I don't know what I—"

"Let's do it again," Wrathion said, his voice came hoarse with unmistakable hunger.

 _Tell him no; tell him you need time to think, that you'll both regret this in the morning._

Who was he kidding? _Anduin thought he'd never wanted something so much._

Without further words he leaned in to take Wrathion's mouth, much more deliberately this time, he actually pulled his full weight above him and straddled his hips; _everything about it was brilliant,_ the feel of his body, the insistence of his lips, the humid expiration of his breath—

" _Why,"_ he mouthed softly; "why are you like this, after everything— after you cared for me so little that—"

" _I've always cared for you, Anduin Wrynn,_ " came the reply, laden with years of genuine fondness, a burden which weighed on his heart despite his unshakable purpose, and which he never had denied. "Maybe one day you'll see that."

 _(On to Chapter 7)  
_

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in **roleplaying Warcraft lore** , especially **Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas** (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please contact me either via PM or through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^

.


	7. Chapter 7

At the end of the following day, Anduin returned to his quarters tired but content: he'd delivered a sermon in the morning and after that devoted himself to his studies and research, together with others in the priesthood. He'd expected that the events of the previous evening would leave him feeling awkward later, but despite them he'd been somehow overcome by an uncanny sense of calm; what's more, the Holy Word channeled within him all through his sermon, and he spoke with divine conviction that moved his followers' hearts.

The night before his dreams had been almost unnaturally sweet, they had left him with lingering warmth and an encompassing affection, he'd not realized he had looked forward to seeing Wrathion; he stepped into their mutual quarters still in his holy garments, still carrying tomes of the Light, and wondered if he'd find him there.

Somewhere inside, Anduin knew he still ought to be angry; _I haven't forgiven him,_ he thought, _of course not, and I'll give him a piece of my mind— but some of the things he said had made logical sense..._

Beyond logical sense, however, was the overwhelming feeling that some divine purpose was at hand, something outside mortal comprehension, and that the friendship between them was _right;_ he made a mental note to meditate on that during his prayers that evening.

At the opposite end of the room the curtains swayed a little when he got the front door open, the air was chilly, the hearth wasn't lit; _Oh,_ Anduin thought; he remained at the entrance for several moments, aware unexpectedly of a small sense of disappointment.

His eyes trailed over the outline of the furniture, dimly illuminated by the waning daylight from outside, and finally he walked inside and closed the front door; he carefully placed his books on the table at the entry and rapidly proceeded to the hearth, where he knelt to light the fire.

 _Where was Wrathion...?_ From there he could see that neither the adjoining bedchamber nor the bathroom were illuminated.

 _Well,_ he thought; _why should I care where he buggered off to...? He's probably off doing dragon things._

He went on to disrobe for his bath and carefully folded his clerical garments, he'd been so busy that day he'd not had a chance to write a letter to Velen about his experience at the chapel the previous night; in his mind already he planned what he intended to write, while he went on to prepare the water.

Certainly other members of the clergy had approached him about it, he'd been asked about his welfare and offered blessings by a number of other priests; "In this holiest of moments," he'd replied humbly, "we take solace in the guiding wisdom of the Light."

How exactly the Light's wisdom intended to guide him in this case, he wasn't sure— but such a thing required patience, and time to ponder its mysterious purpose. He had hoped while saying his prayers that he might experience a similarly blessed state as that of the previous evening, but his meditation proceeded uneventfully, and he concluded as he usually had.

What's more, despite himself he'd almost hoped Wrathion would arrive— he envisioned how he'd chide him for _knowing exactly when to come in, just when he'd got into the bath_ — but in the end he finished washing up without any embarrassing intervention on part of his old friend's untimely arrival.

"Well, good thing," he said aloud to the empty room; "I wanted to have my own quarters to begin with."

 _And, besides, he still had so much work to do,_ he couldn't spend all evening preoccupied by nonsensical things.

However, as the hours passed he found his mind going back to Wrathion time and again, and how it had felt to kiss him; he tried to focus his attention on the holy manuscript he had open at the desk, but finally turned his thoughts directly to the matter at hand.

 _Why was he taking so long to come back?_ Hadn't he told the clergy they were lovers, wouldn't that mean he would have to spend time with him...?

He got up from his seat and paced to the window, and then tried to see whether perhaps a dragon might be approaching through the skies— but that was ridiculous, Wrathion could be anywhere; and, what's more, Anduin wasn't exactly sure _how_ he looked in his true form at this point in time. Either way, the hills appeared shrouded in darkness, with lanterns and shop windows illuminating the streets: he doubted he'd be able to make out the form of anything flying toward the town.

"I'm glad I have the room to myself," he said to no one in particular; "finally I can focus on my work in peace."

He wasn't anywhere near as productive as he'd hoped, however; he stared down at his holy scripture and read the same paragraph several times without retaining a word, and finally leaned back in his chair and turned his gaze upward.

" _Blessed Light that art in Heaven,"_ he mouthed with eyes closed; " _please lend me the strength to overcome this... this..._ "

 _This what...?_

He could not understand what it was that overtook him, but somehow he could not find the serenity that usually guided him through meditation and prayer; " _Forgive me, holy Light,"_ he finally said, he rose from his chair conclusively and made for the bedroom, then tossed himself on the covers and went for his belt.

He stifled his voice with one hand and buried his head in his pillow, and had at himself savagely, with frustration he'd not realized he'd felt, _and he thought he wouldn't mind if Wrathion had walked in—_

 _—no, he wouldn't mind if he saw him at it— if he'd said something taunting or embarrassing, Anduin thought that it would only turn him on— he would look at him directly without stopping, and he'd say, We're lovers, aren't we, so come over here and—_

 _—and what...?_

He imagined Wrathion walking toward him while he still touched himself, fully clothed, and envisioned him leaning forth to kiss him, _he would mouth scandalous things against his lips, bury his head in his neck, get his hand on Anduin's on his cock with gloves still on, and tell him how dirty he was—_

 _Yes,_ Anduin thought, _I want that— I want him to do it to me—_

He finished messily in his own hand, exhausted and short of breath, and lay on his side with eyes closed; inside him his pulse still went fast, gradually there came the fatigue of after-exertion, as well as the hollow, wretched sensation of being alone.

"What am I doing," he murmured, he regarded the digits of his hand, where the fluid glistened hotly in thin rivulets to his palm; his belt clinked while he rose from the mattress and proceeded to the bathroom in order to clean up, his hair partly disheveled out of its tie.

For the remainder of the evening he managed to get a few passages read in his scripture before finally retiring for sleep, but even by that time Wrathion still hadn't returned.

 _(On to Chapter 8)  
_

XX

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in **roleplaying Warcraft lore** , especially **Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas** (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please contact me either via PM or through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^

.


	8. Chapter 8

Two days had passed before at last Wrathion returned; at first, Anduin had grown increasingly annoyed, he felt unexpectedly rejected and hurt, and wondered what exactly Wrathion had been playing at. "Oh," he huffed to himself moodily; " _I've always cared for you, Anduin Wrynn—_ what a load of rubbish, as if I believed that for a moment."

Humans and dragons, he concluded, could never properly get along— let alone become _lovers,_ _not that he ever believed that bit, either—_ Anduin told himself that he needed to focus on his scripture, he couldn't afford to waste time on nonsense like this; and then later when he'd return to Stormwind, maybe he'd ask his father to introduce him to a proper young woman or man, a _human_ one, who acted in a way that he could understand...

However, during his time studying his scriptures he could not find inner peace; he found himself hopelessly distracted, where despite all he'd told himself his thoughts wandered back to Wrathion. He thought of how they'd kissed, the tender things he'd said, and how _sincere_ he had sounded; _Yeah,_ he thought, _of course he sounded sincere— he'd always been good at deception._

 _I'm such an idiot._

He decided he was through with other boys, through with dragons, and through with matters of the heart on the whole— he would devote himself solely to his duties as a priest and his duties to Stormwind, and between those two stations he'd have little time for _stupid nonsense._

He flushed furiously when he thought back to the way they'd embraced in bed; _he couldn't believe he'd let Wrathion get away with all that. Light, he'd actually let him bathe him._

"Well, there'd be no more of that," he muttered irritably while turning a page in his manuscript; it occurred to him that, again, he hadn't retained a word of what he'd been reading.

And yet, throughout the day he found himself now and again glancing out the window, as in hopes that perhaps he'd see a black dragon approach; _he'd be so angry at Wrathion if ever he saw him again._ He wouldn't speak to him at all; in his mind, he imagined Wrathion coming to him with desperate apologies, he would beg forgiveness, but Anduin would have none of it. He'd act composed and cool, and would say something very slick like _My heart belongs only to the Light;_ then he'd turn away while Wrathion would try to chase after him and say he was sorry, that he'd do anything to redeem himself...

However, as the hours passed Wrathion still hadn't returned, and there were no regretful apologies for Anduin to ignore; surely he'd come back that night, wouldn't he? Surely he wouldn't leave him another day on his own, after he'd told everyone in the clergy that they were _lovers?_

 _What a joke,_ Anduin thought; _lovers. And I almost believed it, too. I really am an idiot._

Of course it was a lie; they _weren't_ lovers. The whole story was utterly absurd.

Evening gradually fell, in his quarters Anduin watched absently while the skies behind branches of trees went from pale to purple to dark; _another day wasted,_ the thought formed in his mind without his discretion, as he knew that despite everything he'd tried and failed to convince himself, every moment that day he had hoped that at last Wrathion would come.

Slowly his irritation gave way to despair, and while he lay in bed late that night he thought he'd forgive Wrathion everything— that he'd undergo any humiliation— if only he'd have him back; he should have accounted for his arrogance. He should have accounted for his pride.

It occurred to him that, for all he knew, Wrathion may well not return for another several years, like that time before; he thought he despised him thoroughly for how he made him suffer, without ever meaning to make him suffer at all.

After several hours spent lying uselessly without falling asleep, he got up again and began pacing the room; in the dim glow of his holy candles the outline of the furniture danced softly against the wall, light and shadow, his open manuscript remained forgotten at the writing desk where he'd abandoned it last. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so distracted from his work, if he'd kept up this way he'd fall dreadfully behind, even the Light did not manifest as vividly in him as it had in the previous days...

He sat at his desk and went on to light his lantern, and squinted against the small flame; however, instead of reaching for his scripture he regarded a number of blank scrolls he had previously set aside on a nearby shelf.

He'd intended to write Velen, and to find a mage at Bradensbrook who might send the letter to him quickly by arcane means— and yet, now that he stared at the blank page, he thought only of writing to Wrathion.

Would that work? A mage would be able to send a letter to anyone, and then the page would magically appear before the recipient; it was probably possible, all he would have to do was write something, and then surely Wrathion would come back...

Certainly it must be some misunderstanding, wasn't that right...? Maybe Wrathion had told him that he'd be leaving, that he had dragon stuff to do, and that he'd be back some time after the fact— maybe he'd said so after he, Anduin, had already fallen asleep, and so he just didn't remember... Surely a letter like that could clear things up...?

Without realizing it he'd developed false hopes, already he'd begun rationalizing things in his mind: it wasn't that Wrathion didn't _care_ for him; it wasn't that he'd _lied,_ it was probably just one big misunderstanding...

He stared at the blank scroll for a long time while trying to figure out what to write, but everything he could think of felt terribly _stupid;_ _I can't do this,_ he concluded. _I would come off too desperate._

Maybe he could just ask something casual, something anyone might ask— like _I was just wondering if you happened to see my book of psalms, I can't find it anywhere._

In the end he could not get himself to lie like this, especially where matters of the Light were concerned; and, either way, he wasn't satisfied with the notion of having to wait until he would find a mage in order to send the letter. _He wanted badly to speak with him now._

What was he off doing, anyway? Despite him his thoughts wandered to images of Wrathion with some other dragon, perhaps another black drake, a female one— and there they were off doing _dragon things_ , stuff which Anduin could never understand...

He was jealous, he was terribly jealous, in his heart he felt things decidedly unlike the acceptance and forgiveness he was meant to preach; already he thought he disliked this hypothetical black dragon with whom in his mind Wrathion was cavorting.

 _I'm only a mortal,_ he thought; he imagined that Wrathion would return with an entire brood of his own and then say that _it was only natural for him to seek out his own kind._

"No," Anduin said to the empty room; "That's absurd. Wrathion dislikes other black dragons, and there are hardly any others remaining anyway..."

 _Still, what if somehow..._

In the end he returned to bed without writing to Wrathion at all; he hardly managed to get enough sleep, and felt groggy and miserable in the morning.

The following day he was partway through delivering his afternoon sermon when, completely without warning, at long last _he_ walked into the church— like it were the most casual thing in the world. Anduin glanced up from the excerpt he'd been quoting in his holy scripture, the words frozen at his lips, eyes wide in a moment of disbelief; his pulse skipped a beat, his ears went hot, inside him emotions warred that had haunted him for the past two days.

 _Where were you? What have you been doing? How could you have left me like that?_

 _...aren't we meant to be lovers...?_

Within the pews people began to look around, they gazed at Anduin expectantly where he'd paused mid-speech, and at last he remembered himself; he coughed and began to resume the sermon, voice tremulous with fervor and thoughts miles off from his words. He spoke mechanically, aware he ought to devote himself fully to the Light in that moment but despite himself impatient to be finished: after all, what if Wrathion got up and walked out again, and then who knew when he'd see him next...?

 _This is terrible,_ he was aware, he'd never actually rushed to be done with a sermon before— but the desire to finally speak with Wrathion had become irresistible, he thought he wanted to smite him for all he was worth, and all the while he also wanted to cover him with kisses.

When at long last the hour had reached its conclusion and he descended from the podium, he was terribly eager to approach him; a number of people had come to ask questions and he inwardly prayed to the Light for calm, for the serenity to focus on what was important, and not on his own volatile feelings. He actually excused himself partway through when he saw Wrathion begin to walk out of the hall, and promised he'd return and then address every question more patiently, _but he just had to—_

 _He just had to go for a moment—_

With his holy books in hand he trotted out from the church while his clerical garments billowed behind him, he caught up with Wrathion out of breath and, with little pride remaining, he called out to him.

Wrathion paused where he'd been most of the way out to the gardens, in the afternoon sunlight his dark hair appeared haloed in a soft haze; he was bloody _smiling._

 _...smiling...!_

Anduin remained where he was some feet away, squinting against the sun, still clutching his books, somehow boyish within the elaborate folds of his vestments; now that he'd caught up with him at last words utterly failed him.

 _Where have you been?_

 _Why didn't you say anything before leaving?_

 _Is this some sort of dragon thing?_

 _Why are you like this...?_

In the end, he said nothing; he remained stupidly in place, feeling suddenly like a small child dressed in the ministerial robes of a priest, overcome by emotion and the deep desperation to have his old friend back.

" _I hate you,"_ the words issued softly, too soft for anyone else to have heard; then he'd actually become a little tearful, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment but without his own discretion he'd begun crying outright. _At his age, at his station._

"I hate you," he mouthed, he swiped boyishly at his eyes and clenched his teeth, and while he was terribly self-conscious that anyone might see, he could not help himself any longer; somehow, years of pent agony surged within him which he'd long since suppressed.

For some time no other words came to him; he merely repeated himself, uncertain what had taken him over, vaguely aware that others must have seen him— that he'd behaved in a manner entirely unbecoming of a priest and a prince.

He hadn't realized that Wrathion had approached him until his long arms came round his body and he found himself pressed to his chest, and his soft, velvety voice whispered quiet murmurs to him in Draconic; " _Shh,"_ Wrathion said, he kissed him everywhere on his face, on his cheeks and his mouth and the tip of his nose, and the places where he'd got tearful.

" _I hate you,"_ Anduin whispered; " _I hate you so much—_ "

Despite him, despite everything in him which hungered to lash out in anger for how Wrathion had inadvertently made him suffer, he buried his head in his neck while Wrathion held him for a long time, in plain view of the townspeople leaving church; he was aware now profoundly that he was achingly, wretchedly in love, that he had been for a long time—

— _Light help me,_ he murmured; _Light save us both._

 _(On to Chapter 9)_

XX

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in **roleplaying Warcraft lore** , especially **Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas** (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please contact me either via PM or through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^


	9. Chapter 9

On their departure from the church, townspeople grinned knowingly at the two embracing lovers; it was commonly understood by then that this visiting priest was Wrathion's beloved, the scene was terribly endearing. Only Anduin flushed to find himself in the midst of such a thing, _it wasn't like that at all,_ he thought, Wrathion was a conniving snake of a drake, who had wholly abandoned him over the past days—

— _abandoned him?_

If they weren't really lovers, then why had he felt so profoundly betrayed by his recent absence…?

You'd think now that he'd never left, he was gently walking Anduin back to their temporary residence, the arm he had round his back was so kind it felt odd to imagine he'd really been gone so long— because how could someone who felt so genuinely comforting have ever wanted to make him feel bad…?

It _must_ have been some misunderstanding; there must have been a good reason, if only he'd explain then surely Anduin would understand…

"I'll bet I know what would make you feel better," Wrathion said, all affection and cordial regard, he smiled elegantly at the other priests present while leading Anduin up the stairs to their mutual quarters; at that, Anduin flushed. _Wrathion was on the verge of suggesting something intimate, he knew,_ and it was up to him, Anduin, to chastise him for that.

 _Tell him he's a crafty bastard and he's just trying to seduce you; tell him you have no intention of letting him touch you that way, that this time you won't be fooled._

Somehow, Anduin's voice failed him; without his discretion his thoughts drifted to all he'd imagined in the past days, the scandalous things he thought he and Wrathion might do, if they really were _lovers._

He had touched himself while thinking of him, he'd imagined while lain in bed that Wrathion was at his side, that they were kissing, and then—

His pulse quickened on their entry to the suite, in his mind he still struggled to construct the proper response to the words Wrathion had never said— about _the dirty things he certainly must expect them to do;_ what would happen once they'd shut the door? Would Wrathion grip him suddenly, pin him to the wall and seize his mouth with unrestrained hunger— would they tear impatiently at each other's clothes, while Anduin would try breathlessly to convey _he couldn't be doing such things in his ministerial robes—_ and would Wrathion then inform him that in this case he must be quickly rid of them?

After the door had closed there was a silence; Anduin remained in place with his pulse still hammering, he felt his throat go dry, he readied himself for the bullshit Wrathion would certainly spout, so that he could rapidly deny him and shoot him down.

 _I'll bet I know what would make you feel better,_ Wrathion had said on the journey there— and now that they'd got to their rooms, he turned elegantly toward Anduin and reached to slide a narrow rectangular from within the inner pocket of his blazer.

Anduin frowned; he regarded the item unexpectedly, then the knowing smile on his old friend's face as Wrathion handed him the box.

"Wh..." Anduin murmured, he reached for it with visible confusion, and the container rattled a bit in his hands.

"Open it," Wrathion's grin widened; "you wouldn't believe how far I've had to travel to find one."

 _Find one what...?_

Anduin went on to unwrap the package, and he wasn't certain what it was at first; it was merely an unmarked gray box, but Wrathion prompted him to get it open.

When he did, he found inside it a large number of game pieces, scattered atop a folded board— which, in Pandaren, read the word _Jihui._

For some seconds, time seemed to have gone still; Anduin regarded the box's contents wordlessly, he felt his eyes go damp; there issued from him a choked bout of laughter, he swiped boyishly at his eyes.

"You..." he said, he regarded Wrathion and smiled despite himself, despite the tears that threatened stupidly forth; " _You went out to find a Jihui board…? In bloody Val'sharah?"_

Wrathion grinned; "Oh, I've had to travel much farther than that, Anduin Wrynn."

Anduin remained where he was, staring mutely at the game pieces, overcome with nostalgia and fondness and warmth; "Jihui..." he laughed softly, it was the game they had played nearly every night at the Tavern in the Mists, many years ago.

" _You went out to look for a game of Jihui, and all this time, I thought... I thought..."_

"What's wrong?" Wrathion asked; "Don't you want to play? You used to love this game..."

With the container still idly open in one hand, Anduin gripped Wrathion by the collar of his blazer, he forced him close and hungrily seized his lips; he was surprised by the fervor which overtook him, and had at him for a long time, frustrated and anguished, and didn't release him until they both were gasping for air.

After that he slowly met his eyes, they regarded one another across the small space of breath.

" _You daft… you daft, stupid dragon,"_ Anduin mouthed. " _Yes, I want to play— of course I still love this game— I've always loved—_ "

His voice trailed to a silence while they continued to gaze at each other, softly illuminated by the afternoon sunlight.

 _To be continued…_

XX

A/N: I would love to find someone interested in **roleplaying Warcraft lore** , especially **Wrathion/Anduin, Varian/Arthas, or Illidan/Kael'thas** (if this is still on here then I'm still looking, haha! Regardless of the date on the fic ^^) I've had a very difficult time finding anyone interested in this, as WoW fangirls usually like RPing their OCs (which I'm not interested in doing). I don't mind at all if you don't know much lore; if English isn't your first language; if you're a little shy; if you're new to Warcraft or to RPing; or if you've not RPd canon characters before. I just like writing with someone else who's passionate about the same stuff =) If you feel like giving it a go, then please contact me either via PM or through the contact info on my profile. Thank you! ^^


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